See You Again
by 9r7g5h
Summary: The only thing that kept them going was the hope that, one day, they would see each other again.


**AN:** Something new that I thought of. I might continue it, but we'll see. For now, it's just a one shot. I hope that you all like it! :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Wreck-It Ralph. Disney does.

* * *

Terrance Yensid was a collector.

Having been born to money, the only child of parents who both hailed from influential families with _very _deep pockets, he had found that, while creating something for himself was out of his power, having what others had worked upon and sharing it with the world did his old heart some good. To this affect, he had not only created a public art gallery filled with some of the rarest pieces ever painted or sculpted, a riding academy filled with the best of each breed that taught young children a love of horses, and a library open to all that had some of the most intriguing books written, he had recently turned his attention towards a new venue for his collector's interest. It had been his granddaughter's fault, if he was to be honest, putting the idea into his head with the sheer amount of time that she had been spending at her local arcade, but once it had worked its way in, Terrance had been hooked.

For his granddaughter's enjoyment, and the education of all children who wishes to visit, he was going to create a museum of glitched games. And he knew exactly where to get the first of his gems.

Mr. Litwak was a simple man, one who had made his way through life by providing entertainment to children and adults alike, keeping his establishment clean and welcoming to all who might come. He kept his games in working order, often going through far greater lengths then many others would have considered reasonable to keep the older consoles going, and it was not unusual to find him cleaning the glass himself after hours, wiping away sticky fingerprints and thin layers of dust so that they almost shined. He was fair to all who entered through his doors, listen to both sides of an argument that might have cropped up between two teens eager to play his newest shooting game before making a decision, and when some of the younger players lost too early in the game, he gave them another try, placing a quarter in their hands with a wink and a tap of his nose to calm their tears. He knew many of them by name, and worked each day to learn those he still had trouble with, so that everyone who came knew they were home.

Mr. Litwak was a kind, simple man. So, when an impeccably dressed gentleman, one who obviously had money to spend and was looking for a way to do so, paid him a visit, he just did what came naturally: offered him a seat in his office, asked some of the older children to watch the younger ones and come get him if any problems arose while he was indisposed, and listened to what the man had to say.

"I have heard many things about your arcade, Mr. Litwak," Terrance Yensid said with a nod, carefully crossing his legs so that the movement did not disturb the creases in his pants. "My granddaughter has spent many an afternoon playing here, and so I have heard many things. Except for the occasional child who does not wish to share, most of these things I have heard about here have been good. The rest have been…interesting. I like interesting, Mr. Litwak, and so I am here to make you an offer on what has peaked my interest, if you are willing to hear me out."

"No harm in just listenin' to what a fella has to say," Mr. Litwak said with a smile as he leaned back in his chair, at ease with how his mannerisms contrasted with those of the man before him. He had never been one to dress himself up or try to make himself appear to be someone who he was not, and after over fifty years of living this way, had become comfortable in his skin.

"It is about a certain game of yours, one that has drawn quite a bit of attention to this arcade over the last few years. After my granddaughter mentioned it, I did a bit of research, and have come to the conclusion that your version of this game is one of a kind. You know which game I am talking about, Mr. Litwak," Terrance said, raising his hand to stop whatever it was that the arcade owner had been about to say, "and since there is no reason for us to mince words, I shall come straight out and tell you why I have come: I wish to buy this game to add to my Museum of Video Game Oddities. Name your price, and you shall have it."

"I do happen to know what game you're talkin' about, Mr. Yensid, and I'm afraid that I'm not sellin' it," Mr. Litwak said after a long while, leaning forward so that his elbows were resting on the side of his desk, supporting his weight as he crossed his fingers under his chin. "The kids love that game, and while it's one of my cheapest, it's almost one of my most popular. Whether or not it's some programming mistake that makes it valuable or something that was added that no one else has unlocked, whelp, that's not up to me to say. What I can say, however, is that I'm sorry I wasted your time."

"Ahh, but Mr. Litwak, my time is never wasted," Terrance Yensid says with a sly smile as he casually pulled his checkbook from his pocket, a pen quickly finding its way into his other hand as he spoke, acting as if the two objects had just been in his way as he pulled out a handkerchief. "Even if my mission to procure your version of that game was unsuccessful, if you have the time, I would like to sit and talk with you for a while more. My granddaughter has told me many things about your establishment that I would like to discuss. Many _interesting_ things."

Terrance Yensid was a collector, and, in the end, he always got what he wanted.

* * *

Although she enjoyed the ability to hide from the player when the days were slow and she had nothing else to do, sometimes, Sergeant Calhoun wished that Hero's Duty had screen more like the other games. While it would have taken away from the privacy that the soldiers experienced whenever the robot was not control by a player, allowing them to laugh and relax out of character while pre-recorded cut scenes played on their console, it would have also made observation easier, allowing them to just look up and out if they wished to see how the things stood at the arcade. As it were, however, staring into the face of the first person shooter was the best they had, so it was what she worked with, posting guards to keep track of anything unusual that happened in the real world between quarter alerts. It was a crude system, one that often forced them to miss important events due to their limited field of sight, but for the most part, it was good enough.

"Sarge, you're going to want to come see this."

"What is it, Kohut," Sergeant Calhoun asked quickly as she hurried to her second in command's side, the tone of his voice doing nothing to set her mind at ease as he interrupted her mental planning, something that her men had learned a long time ago was never a smart thing to do on a whim. Kneeling so that she was level with the screen, her eyes quickly found what he had seen, causing her to still as her mind refused to take in the situation before her. It couldn't be, it just couldn't.

"No," she whispered, half hoping that Kohut would agree with her, that what they were seeing had to be a malfunction of the robot, a glitch that showed the impossible happening when in reality it could never be true. His silence, however, only confirmed that what she was trying to believe was untrue as reality.

Her blaster falling from her fingers with an almost inaudible clatter as the alert for an incoming quarter began to blare, it was only because a player's face filled the screen that she turned away, forcing her features into the mask that would hide her disbelief long enough to get through this game. Forcing the lines that she had long since memorized to pass from her lips, it was only her duty to her game and her men that kept her running forward, shooting the cy-bug hoard while shouting out helpful hints to the child playing their game. It was only her disbelief that life could be as cruel as to take him away that kept her together as the scene of Fix-It Felix Jr. being unplugged and rolled out of the arcade played again and again behind her eyes, becoming a little bit truer every time her mind forced her to watch it again.

Although Tamora did not know it, Terrance Yensid was a collector, and he _always_ got what he wanted to collect.


End file.
